The Spanish Class, Part II
By Jeanette A. Fratto, Orange County Branch
(You read Part I last month. Now see what happened next.)
While I sat in the garage I devised a plan to get into my locked house. My husband had done his usual escape, headed to a Tai Chi class at the senior center nearby. As soon as one of my guests arrived we’d drive there, get his house key, and be inside in no time. He never kept his cell phone on so calling him would be useless.
Several ladies showed up at once. One volunteered to drive me while the others remained in their cars. When I went into the Tai Chi class my husband wasn’t there, nor had he shown up according to the instructor. Frustrated and embarrassed, I returned home with the bad news. We’d be meeting in the garage, no tea, no dessert, no comfort.
One of the members who lived closest to me in Laguna Niguel offered her home. She thought she had some ice cream to serve and a pot of tea wouldn’t take much time. We went there gratefully, rescuing some of the afternoon. Certainly not the one I planned.
My husband came home to find me sitting in my car. Before he could speak I spit out, “Where were you?” He had changed his mind on the way to the senior center and went to the gym instead. He was full of apologies when he learned what happened. There was nothing to be done about it now except get over it.
I’d like to think this little episode had nothing to do with the gradual unraveling of our tightly knit group, yet I’ve never completely believed in coincidences. We continued to meet but our usual perfect attendance became spotty. Appointments or a stuffy nose interfered. One lady suddenly announced she’d sold her house and would be moving to Wisconsin with her daughter. We never even knew her house had been for sale.
Shortly after this piece of news, our Laguna Beach member had a bad fall and was hospitalized. Her beloved German shepherd had to stay at a kennel. The few days anticipated for her recovery stretched into weeks when an infection set in and other complications occurred. The day before she was finally to be released home for further rest, her dog died. Can dogs die of a broken heart? We thought so. Our friend never returned to Las Damas.
Our group, now reduced to four, clearly needed re-thinking. We agreed to soldier on with four, but no fewer. It didn’t take long to reach three. Our original San Clemente hostess had developed hearing problems which hearing aids didn’t correct. Being able to converse with us in Spanish became increasingly difficult. She reluctantly dropped out.
Thus, Las Damas, which seemed like it might go on forever, had run its course. We tried to stay in touch but the time in between contacts grew farther apart. Last year we had a reunion lunch but no Spanish was spoken. We caught up on each other’s lives and vowed to meet again soon. Only we haven’t.
I still practice Spanish whenever I can and find I’m able to travel to Spanish-speaking countries and hold my own. I can thank my time with Las Damas for that, but I do miss those weekly meetings and the great desserts.